lovesong (sam kiszka x reader)

3

i woke up to clattering coming from downstairs. i slowly pushed myself up off the mattress that i had yet to put on the bed frame and looked at myself in the floor-length mirror that sat in the corner. i was wearing the same jeans and t-shirt as the day before, with black makeup smears all over my face. fantastic. i wiped my face in the bathroom and shuffled slowly down the stairs.

"dad? what the fuck are you doing?" i asked as i poked my head into the kitchen. he was digging through the kitchen boxes, a coffee mug sitting on the counter next to him. he was most certainly looking for the keurig. "you know there's a million little coffee places in town, right?"

"there are?"

"yes. i counted 8 in three minutes."

"thanks, kiddo. i was about to be late for my first day." he kissed me on the head.

"sell lots of fancy cars for me!" i shouted as he headed for the door. i sighed and looked around at all the boxes. summer vacation was sure to be a blast. after a minute of looking out the window and admiring that i actually had a backyard, there was a knock on the door.

"it's a little early," i said, opening the door to see sam. he was wearing a t-shirt for a random beer company i'd never heard of and another pair of jeans.

"you look like a fucking mess, l/n." he said as i stepped aside to let him in.

"thanks for the complement, kiszka. i literally just got out of bed."

"i can see that. we should probably unpack so you, y'know, have clothes." he smiled.

"that would be nice." we climbed the stairs to my room. he stood with his hands on his hips, looking at the abyss of boxes and scattered furniture.

"maybe we move the dresser and desk and stuff first? put all the boxes in the middle?" i asked. he just nodded.

i put my phone and speaker in the doorway, turning on a playlist. the intro to day tripper by the beatles played as he and i approached my dresser.

"are you strong?" he asked.

"i'm a drummer. what the fuck do you think." we lifted each side of the dresser and shuffled it over to the wall, under the window. it took us 20 minutes to move all the furniture, but soon, it started to look like a real bedroom.

now the boxes.

there were 9 in total. two for my records, one for my record player and speakers, two for clothes, one for books, one for random things like blankets and nicknacks, and one for my posters. there were a lot.

"are you good with audio stuff? you can do my record player, if you want. it goes on that small table and downstairs are two ikea boxes for the records." i asked as lifted the player's box.

"i set up the one in my room, i should be okay." he said. i could see his side profile from the position he was standing in. sharp features, almost like a greek god. it was odd that a person like him lived next to me. odd that a person so kind, so funny, so beautiful, was only a minute's walk away from my house. but i was getting ahead of myself. i'd only met him 18 hours before.

i cracked open a clothing box, the one with everything that was to be put in the closet, and sorting it all. one of these nights by the eagles came on, and sam began singing quietly under his breath. he sounded a little shy about singing, so i decided not to say anything about it.

he finished fiddling with the record player, making sure it worked with a random 45 he found, and then came to help me. he cracked the other clothing box open, showing my near-endless collection of concert shirts i'd thrifted or gotten first hand. "i swear, your clothes make it seem like you live at goodwill or in the 70s or something."

"is that a bad thing?" i asked.

"not necessarily. i have to drive 20 minutes out of town to go thrifting."

"you thrift?" i asked.

"do you really think i bought this shirt first hand?" he looked down at it and laughed.

"fair point. most of these bands i've never seen, but the ones with dates in the past two or three years i've either worked or gone to." i said.

"right. my brothers and i always go down to the bar in town or the bingo hall or whatever and see the crappy cover bands. there's never actually good shows that come anywhere near here."

"you make it sound like frankenmuth's got toxic radiation in it."

sam snickered. "feels like it sometimes." he opened a dresser drawer and started neatly folding the shirts so they would fit.

i moved on to the nicknacks box, making my bed with the blanket and sheets inside and then putting my figurines and such on the desk and dresser. most of it was horror movie relates, a small chucky doll, a ceramic paper boat, a couple of pop figures.

"so horror movies, huh?" sam took a shirt out of the box with a retro-style friday the 13th design on it. i popped open the books box, pushing it across the floor to the old bookshelf that used to be my grandmas a million years ago.

"yep. my favorite. i dunno, i like to be scared."

"me too. not my favorite genre, but they're always fun. i should have known, you did say the shining was your favorite movie."

"i'm a sucker for jack nicholson screaming and freezing in a hotel hedge maze, what can i say?" i joked, holding up the book. i had a ton of stephen king in the box, some james patterson, some koontz, and a crap ton of classic books i'd stolen from my old high school's library. the great gatsby, frankenstein, to kill a mockingbird, of mice and men, that sort of thing.

"y/n, can i be completely honest with you?"

"uh, yes?" i turned around, meeting eyes with sam across the room.

"you're the coolest fucking girl i've ever met in my life."

"you keep telling me that, kiszka."

"but i mean it. there's a million little things that just make you cool. the drums, the photography, the books, the shirts, the abundance of denim jackets in your closet, the fucking playlist that's playing right now. i wish you'd have moved here sooner."

"well, you're pretty cool too, you know. i met people that were in bands, but you're the first nice one. and the fact that you know what half of the stuff in my room even is gives you points. just wait until you open the posters box."

he nearly fell over when he saw all the rolls retro band and movie posters tossed into the box. "where are these even gonna go?" he looked up at me and i smiled.

"look at these walls. they're too bright. let's fucking cover them." i held up a bulk pack of command strips and extended my hand. he grinned and took it, pulling himself up.

correction, he tried to pull himself up.

he wound up yanking me down, making me nearly break my tailbone on the hardwood. it would have been my nose if i didn't spin around, and if he wasn't there to conveniently catch me in his arms.

"hey, l/n. fancy seeing you here."

"hey, kiszka. are you flirting with me?" i shot back.

"the world may never know." he put me on the ground and stood up (successfully). as we put up all the posters, tossing the command strips back and forth, i couldn't help but notice how red his face got whenever i smiled.